


Without Answer

by inbetweenfractals



Series: The Wanderer-verse [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, just go with the liberties I take with homunculi, the weird homunculus fic, with mentions of other worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inbetweenfractals/pseuds/inbetweenfractals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the Promised Day, Edward Elric goes before Truth without a plan in mind. He doesn't know what he will do to get Al back.</p>
<p>(The first price was the loss of his humanity. The second was the deal.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Answer

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so some liberties taken with the formation of homunculi and Truth's personality, but nothing extremely major. I've been messing with this for a while, so I hope you enjoy!

( _The first price was the loss of his humanity._ )

He doesn’t know what to say to Truth when he arrives, he just knows he has to say something, _anything_ , to rid himself of this pounding desperation in his throat. They were so close – _so goddamned close_ – and then Al was ripped away from him. ( _No!_ ) He won’t allow it, can’t allow it, but he can’t even think straight. Everything is _no, no, no I won’t allow it, it can’t happen, I’m the older brother, supposed to protect you, save you, bring you back, fuck it, Al!_

What to say, what to say, what to do – and, disappointingly, punching Truth in the face won’t save his brother.

_Al, Al, Al, I can’t let you go, not now, not after all this, not ever. Al –_

“I’ll give you everything, everything I have,” Edward Elric says. “I don’t care; I just want Al to be safe.”

Truth seems vaguely disconcerted for a moment, as if it had expected something else. But what else? What else is there to say, to do, when Al is on the line?

But the moment passes and Truth grins at him. “If you’re so very sure, Mr. Alchemist…”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t waver.

“Done,” Truth says, grin stretching ever wider. “Your brother is safe and whole, waking up amidst friends and family in Central, Amestris.”

Relief washes through him, tense muscles relax, and he sags to the floor. “And…and the price?”

“Your humanity, Mr. Homunculus.”

“My…what?”

“Your humanity.”

He shakes his head. _Not true, not true. Impossible._ “I don’t feel any different. Ling was in pain when he changed.”

“Unlike mortals, my alchemy is seamless. Look at your left shoulder if you don’t yet believe me.”

Edward rips the fraying, dirty cloth away from his shoulder and stares at it. There is the faintest outline of an ouroboros tattoo and, even as he watches, it begins to darken and fill in. His jaw clenches. After a long, painful moment, he looks up and asks, “So…what does this mean? I can still feel; I would have thought – ”

“Did you really think that homunculi have no emotions? You know it isn’t true; they just become a little muted with time. Now you’re just experiencing that for yourself.”

“Then how are we different?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Edward freezes. _Which ‘we’ am I a part of? I’m not still human, am I? But I don’t feel any different…_

“There’s very little difference, Mr. Homunculus. Physically – ”

“Stop calling me that!” Edward snaps.

Truth waits. After a few minutes, Edwards waves at it irritably. “Fine, go on!”

It inclines its head.

“Physically, homunculi are built around a Philosopher’s Stone, but as you have already learned, that can be a single life’s energy. All homunculi’s abilities are alchemical, so you should still be able to use your alchemy. Otherwise, you will have less compunctions towards such things as injuring or killing others, less ties to humanity.”

“I’m never going to kill _anyone_.”

“Oh, Mr. Homunculus? Are you sure? You’ve already come close, such as when you were confronted by Shou Tucker and ‘Scar’.”

Edward runs a hand through his hair, breaking his hair-tie. His hair falls from its braid and into a wave around his shoulders. “I can’t be near Al like this. If something happens…no.” He cuts himself off. He stares at Truth, suddenly suspicious. “You aren’t usually this informative. Why have you been telling me all this?”

( _The second price was the deal._ )

Truth’s grin reaches truly frightening proportions. “I want to make a deal with you. You will get your humanity back and can return to Amestris to live happily with your brother, if only you do something for me.”

“What do you want?”

“You believe in parallel worlds, do you not, Mr. Homunculus?”

He twitches at the name but answers, “I believe they’re possible, yes.”

“The Gate links all of these possible worlds. In some, there are…egomaniacal, shall we say, beings who arise and try to take my place. The ‘Father’ you fought in your own world is an example.”

“Uh-huh.” Edward can tell already that he does not like where this is going. At all. He narrows his eyes in suspicion.

Truth smiles wider and wider. “I would like you to destroy these beings for me, Mr. Homunculus.”

“So you want me to be your pet assassin.”

“And in return, you regain your humanity and a ticket back to Amestris, your brother, and all those other humans you care so dearly for.”

Edward wavers for a moment, then points a finger at Truth. “As I said, I’m not killing anyone.”

“Would you call the destruction of ‘Father’ killing someone? Or the souls in Envy? Mr. Homunculus, you may not have killed anyone with a human face, but you definitely do not have bloodless hands.”

“But I – dammit. Fuck you,” he growls.

“So it’s a deal, Mr. Homunculus?”

“Yes, fine, fuck it, it’s a deal!” Edward flails an arm in Truth’s direction. “But Al better be safe, you hear me?”

“Of course. A deal is a deal, Mr. Homunculus.” Truth extends a glowing white hand.

“Stop calling me that,” Edward mutters. But he takes Truth’s hand anyway and shakes it.

 

( _And the deal was done._ )

 

_The first world had a creature of dark scales and darker jaws. It attempted to eat the world in order to gain all the power there. Edward had no compunctions about taking a blade and sliding it home between the scales. Its screams rended the sky and earth. The creature flailed and cried, but in the end it died. Unfortunately, there were very few people left in that world to celebrate._

_In the second world was another creature, but this one had once been human. It performed many rituals in order to increase its strength, invulnerability, and other such traits. It wanted to become god, but lost itself so in that wish that it lost the ability to stand the sun. Edward took a mirror and turned it into stone. It cursed him as it fell._

_In the third world, there was a man who claimed his race was superior. According to him, all ‘inferior’ races were not fit to breed and therefore should hurry up and die. Edward hesitated – he did not want to kill but what a monster but he did not want to kill! – and was shot through the heart. The sight of Edward regenerating caused the man to turn his gun on himself. The man who wanted to become superior shot himself in the head and fell to the ground, as dead as the ‘inferior’ races he slaughtered._

_It was a woman in the fourth world. She was afraid and so wanted to destroy the rest of the world so she would no longer live in fear. Again Edward hesitated, but this time he slit her throat. And that was the first time he killed._

_He threw up afterwards. The bile tore at his throat and he was glad for the pain even as the red lightning took it away._

_It wasn’t long before he wiped his mouth and set off for the next world, vomit still heavy on his tongue._

 

He doesn’t count time – can’t. The concept of time doesn’t quite make sense anymore. He knows that time was once important to him, but all he can remember of that is _time is running out, gotta come up with a plan, gotta save everyone, before the Promised Day comes…_

He thinks he remembers the Promised Day. Bloody disaster, right? Same as any other world.

He has a watch in his pocket, but he doesn’t use it for time. It is silver, heavy, and has the symbol of a lion on the outside. It makes him think of home and hell. (He isn’t quite sure of the meaning of those words.) Inside the watch are a string of numbers and letters and the words, “DON’T FORGET.”

_Don’t forget what?_ he always wonders.

But he keeps the watch anyway because the weight is comforting in his pocket. He also wonders how weight in a pocket could be comforting. The knives in his sleeves are comforting as well. There have been times when alchemy didn’t work for him, but knives are always reliable.

(There are a lot of things he wonders about. Like: why does he have a metal leg? Why are there metal bolts in his shoulder? Why are others always afraid of him? What is ‘afraid’, exactly? What is the glaring difference between him and others? Why does he always feel like he has forgotten something, the thing the watch warned him not to forget?)

When he walks through the Gate, it is with mild surprise with which he regards Truth. Truth doesn’t generally talk to him. He doesn’t like Truth much anyway. It always watches him with a sense of disappointment. He doesn’t know why.

He wonders if he knew, before. He doesn’t have a Before and After, but he knows that he isn’t who he once was. He isn’t sure why. Perhaps it has to do with “humanity” and the faces that appear in his head when he dreams.

He wonders why he dreams.

Oh, Truth is talking. It is saying something about giving him back his humanity and going home. It isn’t until Truth mentions the name “Alphonse” that he remembers.

“Al!” he cries. “Where is Al?”

Truth’s grin falls from its face.

“I did think this would happen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have forgotten home, Mr. Alchemist. But the memory should be returning to you shortly.”

“Why are you calling me – ”

His voice breaks off. Something drips down his face. His head pounds. He can’t think, _can’t think, can’t think, what to do, no, Al, I’ll do anything –_

He remembers fire.

“Truth, you bastard.”

“So you have called me before, Mr. Alchemist.”

“I want to go home and see Al now.”

“Of course. A deal is a deal, isn’t it, Mr. Alchemist? But, if you ever require my services again, I could still use yours.”

“Like hell I will! Take me back, Truth!”

“Done.”

 

A hand touches his shoulder. The knife is down his sleeve and at her throat before he realizes who it is. He lowers the knife. “Tea…cher?”

That’s her, right?

Her eyes are hard. “Who are you?”

“I’m…Edward.” The name sounds foreign to him. “I’m back now…aren’t I?”

He looks around and sees many faces. He begins to recognize them, but not the look in their eyes. Or, he recognizes the look, but he doesn’t remember it in their eyes. The look says _stranger, I don’t trust you, what have you done with our boy?_

But perhaps it is just an issue of memory. It is still a wheezy, rusty thing that grinds along and stops and starts. Maybe this is how people looked at him however long ago he lived in Amestris. He really isn’t sure. He is beginning to remember time now, but he can’t even begin to apply it to himself.

“Where’s Al?” he asks.

Teacher’s eyes soften a little. _Oh, maybe that_ isn’t _how they looked at me._

A hoarse voice pipes up from the back of the crowd. “See, it is Brother! I told you it was. Will you let me see him now?”

The crowd parts. _Were they protecting him from…me?_ A skeletal boy wrapped up in a large coat steps forward. Edward stares at the boy a moment. The boy seems impossibly young, with a ray of gleaming hope lighting his face up like a sun. To see this face again is surreal.

_How long has it been seen I’ve seen you like this?_

Edward stands slowly, ignoring how Teacher’s muscles tense. He wonders if his face looks as hopeful as the boy’s does. He opens his arms. He doesn’t know why his hands are trembling.

“Al?” he asks softly.

“Brother!” Alphonse cries. He rushes forward and propels himself into Edward’s hug. _It’s so warm. I didn’t realize I forgot ‘warm’. I guess Al did too._ After a long time, they pull apart.

“It’s been such a long time since I saw you,” Edward says.

Teacher seems to have decided he isn’t a threat. In a warmer voice, she says, “It’s been a long time for us too.”

Edward cocks his head, not quite understanding. “It’s been longer for me, however,” he says very seriously.

“Brother, when they told me you hadn’t come back yet I was so worried.”

“How long was I gone?”

“About forty minutes,” Teacher replies.

“Oh.” Edward tries to remember if that is a long time or not. He thinks _short, fleeting, a blink and it’s gone, like a lightning flash_ , but if forty minutes truly isn’t so long a time, why was Al worried?

“So _Edward_ ,” Teacher says and the tone of her voice makes him think that maybe she still believes he is a threat. “Why the changes?”

“Changes?” he echoes, then remembers. He doesn’t look quite the same as he left. Longer hair drawn up in a high ponytail, paler skin, different clothes (still black, however), knives up his sleeves, no blood on his skin. He wonders if his eyes still glint purple in evening light. “I’ve been gone longer than forty minutes, I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m not quite there yet. Gimme some…minutes, yeah, and I’ll remember.”

“Brother..? What’s wrong?”

“Edward,” a new voice says. He turns around and sees a man he recognizes as his father. _Old man doesn’t looks so good. Wait, old? I wonder which of us is older…now._

He misses what his father says. “Sorry, what?”

Hohenheim sighs. “What was the price you paid Truth?”

“I ended up doing some work for it. Boring boss. At least…” His voice trails. He was going to say something about…about a military officer? Huh. Which one? There’s been so many. He can’t remember. He dislikes most of them anyway. “Never mind,” he says. “Not important.”

“How long were you gone?” Hohenheim asks.

“A while.”

“How long is a while?”

A familiar irritation rises within him. “I don’t know! A while! Why the interrogation, anyway? Al’s back, I’m back, the egomaniacal being of this world is dead and gone, we’re good. For now. Let’s enjoy it, yeah?”

Hoenheim nods slowly, as if a realization is dawning upon him. Suddenly he leaps forward, lashing out with a sharp stone. Edward dances back easily, the stone grazing his arm. Hoenheim stumbles and pitches forward. Edward hesitates, but lunges forward and catches his father before he can fall.

The cold blank look that he has gotten used to wearing slides across his face. “Really? Did you think that would work on me, old man?”

Hoenheim stares at him.

Edward doesn’t understand the stare, but he has more pressing concerns at the moment. Such as _why is there blood running down my arm?_ He frowns at the cut, bemused. It isn’t healing. “Huh,” he mutters. After a moment more of confused staring on parts of both father and son, Edward looks up and glances around. The people around him are bloody, bruised, bodies broken.

_Human_ , he realizes. _Oh_.

“So you are human,” Hoenheim says.

In the background, Edward can hear Alphonse saying, “Dad? Brother? What’s going on?”

He decides to tell them. Keeping silent will only cause greater explosions later.  Besides, Edward Elric was never one to run from a fight. “Now,” he says. “I am human…now.”

Teacher sucks in a harsh breath.

Alphonse pauses and stares with wide eyes at his brother. “Brother, what was the price? What price did you pay?”

“There were two prices,” Edward says. He finds that it is easier to speak in a monotone. Blank is simple for him. “In exchange for you, Al, whole and safe and sound, Truth took my humanity.”

“Homunculus,” Teacher says.

He nods in confirmation. “I knew I couldn’t go back like that, so Truth offered me a deal. I go between worlds, take out beings like this…’Father’ here, and once the price was complete, I would get back my humanity and my home.”

A quiet voice. “You’re an idiot.”

“Al?”

“Why did you offer up your humanity for me? That was stupid; you’re the biggest idiot I have ever met!” Alphonse steps forward and raises a hand to strike. To Edward, he looks frail, like the wind might break him. He catches the thin arm before the blow can land. Alphonse struggles to pull his arm back, but to no avail.

“Why?” Edward responds slowly. “There was no…time. I lost all my thought, couldn’t think, only go _Al, Al, AL, what can I do to save you?_ I said _take anything, as long as Al is safe_. And this was the price. Do you think I chose badly?”

Alphonse stills. “Oh,” he says. After a moment, he adds, “You’re still an idiot.”

 

Edward protests going to the med tents that have been set up, but the others insist. Teacher wins him over with the argument, “All the worst injured have been treated by now. Besides, while they check you out, we can finish making sure Al is alright.”

Of course, he doesn’t go quietly. “I’m fine, really. Just a little cut, I’ve had worse and survived, obviously.”

(He notices that, in the confusion, Hoenheim slipped away after patting him on the shoulder. Judging by his looks, Edward figures the old man is crawling away to find somewhere to die.)

He is seated by a woman and a man, blonde and dark-haired respectively. She turns and speaks to the man, who is staring sightlessly forward. “Sir, Edward has returned.”

The man says, “Fullmetal, how are you?”

Edward frowns, trying to place the two. (He remembers the title. It belongs to a boy with a scowl and brighter eyes than his.) After a moment, he gets it. “Mustang, Hawkeye. Right. You’re some of the ones I like.”

“What?”

“Military,” Edward shrugs. “Most of them are a bunch of bastards, whatever world. Not you two. Well, you, sir, yes, but not that kind of bastard. A better bastard.”

“I believe that is the first time you have ever called me sir when not under threat of court martial,” Mustang says very faintly.

Before anyone can say anything else, Alphonse appears, leaning on what only be described as a walker. “What’d they say?” Edward asks, as he waves his younger brother over to sit by him.

“No physical damage. Surprisingly healthy, given all the malnutrition, dehydration and whatnot. The doctors say that I need to hang around for a while and rest and then we can go home.”

“Home,” Edward murmurs. “That was…” He trails off, thinking. Central feels right to him, but there’s also an image of a small town with a cemetery. “That was…Risembool, right?”

“Edward,” Hawkeye says, “What happened to you?”

He rubs his left shoulder. The mark is gone; he can no longer feel it burn beneath his fingers. “I paid two prices to get Al back and to come back myself.”

“Brother, stop being cagey. It doesn’t suit you.” Alphonse sighs and turns to the two officers. “What Brother is not telling you straight out is he became a homunculus in order to restore me.”

Mustang tenses.

“Sir,” Hawkeye warns, place a hand on his arm.

“Fullmetal, I thought you knew better than to do something so stupid. I thought _I_ knew you better.” There’s a painful pause. After a moment, Mustang frowns. “You said two prices.”

“Yeah, what _Al_ didn’t say was that I knew I couldn’t come back like that, but Truth offered me a deal: take out the ‘egomaniacal beings’ of the many worlds and eventually get back my humanity and my way home. Here, I mean. I took it.”

“…You’ve seen a lot, haven’t you?”

Edward shrugs. “I guess. It’s been a while, but I haven’t got a grip on time yet. Too…human, yeah.” He can feel his mouth twist downwards on the word _human_.

“No, you know that isn’t quite what I meant, Fullmetal.”

Edward stills. After a moment he says, “Yeah, I’ve seen a lot. More than even the Hero of Ishval, maybe.”

Mustang is quiet, digesting this. Then he nods and says simply, “I’m glad you boys are back.”

 

 


End file.
